Newspaper Page Text
fi
THINGS YET TO BE.
Somn nny this world is an old, old world,
nut it's always been now to mo ;
IVirh its bounlt rangn of onaaoloas change,
And hopn of things to bo.
A lew friend tak<* my han l
When the old ones pass away;
The old days di«*. but the light In the sky
Is the dawn of another day.
Bomc w«y this world is a cold, cold world,
But it’s always been bright to me ;
with its hearthstone ftr^s and warm desires
For th«* things that aro yet tobe.
And if i must labor, I wait,
And tm«t to the fields I have sown ;
For I know there is truth in the promise of
r >onth,
I will soma time eomo to my own.
Bom« .snv this world is a sad, sad world,
But It s always been glad to me
For the brook never laughs like my soul
whf*n It quaff*
And feasts on the things to be.
The night comes on with its rest;
The morning comes on with its song ;
The hours of grief are few and brief
, But joy Is a whole life long.
Homo say this world Isa bad, bad world,
Bn I H s always boon good lo rnc ;
With Its orrors thorn Jivo dear hearts that
forgive,
And hope for the things to bo.
This world is not old or cold ;
This world is not sad or bad ;
H you look to the right, forgettingthe night,
And say to your soul "Be glad.”
—Alfred Ellison, in Chicago Record.
Y
t THE OTHER GIRL.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
$. ■ __ 1 Lb I I LR from her
it 0 ( _____J lover Burney. !’’criedGrace “Why, I
■
do think she ought
to bo the happiest
girl in the world. I
only wish I had a
■5 lover to get letters
w//i~ from '”
ft, ik/ “'She don’t seem
”T1 n Lit happy,” said
ij little Ernestine
whisper. Yaux, in an awed
“Oil, dear, how I should
like t.. road a real lover’s letter!”
And all the time Lesbia Field sat
quite silent, hereyesfixed on vacancy,
and a troubled ourvo to her lip.
Tho three girls were guests of Mrs.
Delacroix, an elegant elderly lady,
who liked to surround herself with the
society of attractive young people,
Boeing that she had no daughters and
nieces of her own.
Hhe had met Lesbia Field, oue sum¬
mer, in a lonely place in tho woods,
and had perceived her capabilities nt
once.
ffirl, said Mrs. Delacroix,
,, has it in her to make in
a success so¬
ciety. I he idea of her wasting her
sweetness in a place like this!”
And she boldly asked Aunt Zilpah
Field to “lend” Lesbia to her, for a
season.
“Sho hain’t got no clothes,” said
tho old woman, dubiously, adjusting
her spectacles on the bridge of her
nose. “That is, fit for tho city. To
be-sure, she’s got a little ‘school
teachm’ money laid up, aud I could
lend her fifty dollars out of tho
bank—”
“Oh, I’ll seo to all that!” said Mrs.
Delacroix, joyfully,
e Of course Lesbia was fascinated by
the charming city lady, and allowed
herself to bo carried off without the
least protestation. And, in the gen¬
eral novelty and confusion of things,
she never said a word about her on
gagement to Thomas Tarbox.
* Thomas was a hard working school¬
master in an adjoining country dis¬
trict, and Lesbia had thought it a
great piece of good fortuno when he
naked her to be his wife.
1 hoy had planned a simple country
homo and a lifetime of quiet happi¬
ness together, and Mr. Tarbox was
rather surprised when ho heard of
Lesbia’s abrupt departure. Nor did
tho letter she afterward sent him quite
explain the puzzle.
, “Lesbia is young,” he told himself.
“She will enjoy a brief glimpse of
the city.”
, “Thomas will nover understand!”
was Lesbia’s impatient thought.
bia .Mrs. for Delacroix only few had borrowed Les¬
a weeks at first, but
a tho year debt went by. Aunt Zilpah paid
of nature, and still Miss
Field remained with Mrs. Delacroix.
I couldn t spare her, any way in
the world, said the fashionable lady.
*>hewrites my notes, prepares my
menus and reads to me in that sweet
voice of hers. My cousin, Grace Bur
ney, is very well, and dear little Er
nestino, my husband’s relative, is a
gem ; but Lesbia suits me exactly.”
9es, it was a letter from Thomas
Tarbox. He had an opportunity to
come to New York, he wrote. He
wanted to burrow among the treasures
of the Astor Library for some data
for an article he was preparing on
“Ancient Coins aud Their Signifi
cance, and ho looked forward with
pleasure to the chance of seeing Les
bia at last.
“How delightful 1” said Mrs. Dela
oroix. * ‘Of course, you’re enrap
tured, dear!”
Lesbia looked up with a sudden
start a conventional smile.
Was she enraptured?
And in the same moment a guilty
pang pierced her heart. She felt like
an arch-traitress.
... k , • . ,
1110
IVtwrr IWcroix -n There s the little room
over the breakfast parlor—just the
Ve 2oh h, !h. f0 r * ' ?hel °v
said - ,° T Lesbia. h ’ k feeling J* v s ve 5? her kllu color of - vou r- !
come
and go “But, I—I don't think he’d
hke it here as well as a quieter piace.
He s rather shy and-and unaccus
tomed to society.
Ah said Mrs, Delacroix.
But she looked somewhat curiously
at Lesbm s burm-g cheek
Little Ernestine crept closer to her.
‘Is it very nice to receive a letter
from your lover?” whispered she.
“Ob, if I could onlv have a peep at
it!”
“Nonsense!” said Lesbia, sharply,
But when she was in her own room
the tears gushed to her eyes.
Was she really ashamed of honest
Thomas Tarbox? and was it very
wrong of her? Why had she declined
for him Mrs. Delacroix’s invitation to
her ball the next week? Of ennr«e, he
was a very worthy young - c, lmt she
shuddered as she H u.u of the
clothes he would probably wear— of
THE MONROE ADVERTISER, FORSYTH, GA„ TUESDAY, AUGUST 28. 1894. -EIGHT PAGES
his country-cut hair—among Mrs.
Delacroix’s guests. Was she ashamed
of him?
Grace Burney was chatting merrily
with Miss Staats-Burgoyne when Les
bia came down to the dinner-table
that evening.
“The handsomest man I ever saw 1”
said she. “Don’t you think so,
Sophy ?
“Oh, handsome—yes!” said Miss
Staats-Burgoyne, who was a great
heiress and at little niece of Mr. Stoats
1 Von Staatsl^nrg on one side and sole
, daughter of the Burgoynes on the
other. “But it isn’t his face altogetb
er so much as his elegant manners.”
i Do invite me to the dinner,’’
pleaded Grace. “I must meet him
! *8**5; “There , s not a vacant seat for the
■
Staats-Burgoyne.
^ 10 18 lull. iiiifc you re down
for the ball afterwards, dear.”
“Ob, you darling!” chirped Grace.
^ Lesbia, too.
Certainly—and Mrs. Delacroix _ to
chaperone you, smiled the heiress,
graciously.
“Oh, I wish I was old enough to go
into society !” said Ernestine, despair
: lngly.
“But,” added Miss Staats-Burgoyne,
“there’s no use. I mean to fascinate
him,”
Grace tossed her head—one of the
Teujiysoniau heads, “brimming over
with curls” like a veritable sheet of
sunshine.
“I flatter myself I’vo done some¬
thing in that way myself,” said she.
“Only give me a chance, and I’ll do
more J”
“Girls, who is that you are talking
about?” said Mrs. Delacroix.
“It’s Mr. Evelyn, tho Eastern trav
eler,” said Grace. “He’s to be at tho
Staats-Burgoyne dinner ball. “Oh,
aunty, can’t you get him to come
here?”
Mrs. Delacroix shook her head.
“It isn’t possible,” said she. “His
stay is to be so short, and he is so run
after !”
“But, aunty, when he knows I am
your guest!” pleaded Grace. “Be¬
cause I met him last spring at Tuxedo
Park. He was visiting the archoeolo
gist, Doctor Desson, you know, and
we got to be good friends.”
“To-be-sure!” observed Miss Staats
Burgoyne. “He’s betrothed to some
other woman—a boy and a girl en¬
gagement, I’m told.”
“Fie for shame !” laughed Mrs. De¬
lacroix. “Flirting with another girl’s
property !
“All is fair,” composedly snoke Miss
Staats-Burgoyne, “in loro and war. ”
“The other girl must take care of
herself,” said Grace. “I mean to be
Mrs. Evelyn. Why, auuty, dear, every
girl in society is wild after Mr. Eve¬
lyn!”
“Dinner is served!” pompously
spoke tho English butler, opening tho
satin portieres of the dining-room.
Lesbia Field had taken no note of
tho gay conversation transpiring
around her. She was still thinking in
a perplexed way of the letter she had
that morning received.
How should she reply to it? In
what words should she make poor
Thomas Tar box understand that all
her views of life had changed since she
was district school teacher in Sacon
da Couwty?
A sense of strange, sad guilt sorne
how overhung her. It seemed almost
as if Thomas Tarbox were dying and
being buried.
“Was it right?” sue kept asking
herself. “Was it right?”
And all nt onco common sense an
swered “No.”
“I won’t be so mean,” thought Les¬
bia, with a little catching of the
breath. “I’ll telegraph to him and
tedl him to come right here, and then
—then he will see how utterly impos¬
sible it is for me to keep my engage¬
ment. He was always a sensible young
man, and—• oh, I beg your pardon,
Grace! You were speaking tome?”
“Speaking to you? Of course I
was,” laughed Miss Burney, of the
sunny curls. “What sort of a brown
study have you fallen into—with such
a woe-begone face, too?”
“We’re only telling of his possible
ease, ’ ’ explained Miss Staats-Burgoyne,
slowly sipping a pineapple ice—“of
Grace Burney stealing this elegant
Eastern Apollo from his down-east
fiancee. She declares she’ll do it.
And wouldn’t it be nico to steal an¬
other woman’s lover?”
“Are they already engaged?” list¬
lessly asked Lesbia.
“Oh, yes, hard and fast !”
Lesbia shrugged ono ivory-white
shoulder.
“It’s the other girl’s business to
take care of herself,” murmured she.
“Oh, yes! society is all a battle, where
every one’s bound to shift for himself.
It's all give and take.”
Aud in her heart she thought of
Thomas Tarbox, and wished she was
in some dark, peaceful corner, where
she could cry by herself, for this slow,
torturing death of the old love was sif'
hard—so hard!
But presentiy she resolved to put it
;xll out of her head.
“If I’m going to the Staats-Bur
goyne ball,” she told herself, “I must
have all my wits about me. It’s great
promotion to be asked to such a func
t:ou— me, poor little Lesbia Field!”
A smile dimpled her lip as the sud
deu fancy crossed her mind of the lit
tie schoolma am of Saconda listening
Thomas -
Tarbox s prosaic suit,
Could it be possible that she was the
samegm? Aud she didn t write the
letter, after all.
Mr f‘ ? el r r r Jad orderedi two ex
fro f s for Lesbia and Grace.
“My girls must look as well as aov
one at this grande affaire!” said she.
‘;\\ ho knows but that they will meet
their destinies?
Ibe Staats-Burgoyne mansion was a
biazc of silver-tongued electric lights,
a crush of flowers, a dream of Parisian
toilette*, and in their midst Mrs.
Delacroix felt a proud consciousness
that Lesbia, in her ivory-white satin
aud rich old lace, set off by the De
lacroix pearls, looked like a white
rosebud, newly opened. She pulled
at her hostess’ sleeve.
“Dear Mrs. Staats-Burgoyne,” she
whispered, “is that the Eastern trav
eler—the tall man with the straight
Greek profile and the towering height?
Pray introduce him to Lesbia. 1 do
so want the dear girls to meet him.”
Mrs. Staats-Burgoyne smiled grae
iou-i;-.
“ >;;>s F' M,” said she, “allow me
to present to yon Mr. Evelvn.”
Lesbia turned with a little start
from a group of iair maidens with
whom she was talking.
The Eastern traveler bowed low,
but Lesbia stood as if she were rooted
to the gronnd.
“Miss Field does not remember that
we are old friends,” said Mr. Evelvn,
with a certain well-bred composure.
“I would have come to von at once,
Miss Field, but you forbade me. 1
am now awaiting vonr summons.”
“It—is never—Thomas Tar box !”
stammered Lesbia, her heart beating
as if it would burst through its prison
of satin and pearls.
“They call me Tom Evelyn now,”
said the elegant stranger, smiling cu
riouslv. “It was the condition on
which t inherited the fortune that has
enabled me to travel. I would have
written you all about it, Lesbia, if
you had condescended to answer my
last letter. Will you favor me with
the third waltz? And then perhaps
1ve shall be able to talk a little more
comprehensively.”
He turned with consummate ease to
greet a new- crowd of strangers, all
eager to be introduced to the lion of
the evening.
Lesbia gazed at him with a deli¬
cious pride ofpossession ; and yet, was
he still hers?
“Lesbia!” cried Grace Burney,
“l'ou little arch deceiver, you have
played us all false! You are ‘the
other girl!’ ”
Then, for the first time in her lfe, a
sensation of mad jealousy gripped at
her heart.
Was it the old love flaming up from
its half distinct ashes? or was it a
newer light, born of that blissful mo¬
ment?
She replied to Grace’s audacious
speech only by a look.
Sophy Staats-Burgoyne recoiled.
“Hush, Grace!” said she. “She’s
really angry. It’s a case of ‘hands
off. ’ The other girl is not to be trifled
with.”
Until the longed-for waltz came,
Lesbia Field was wretched. She looked
piteously up into Mr. Evelyn’s face as
ho offered her his arm.
“So I have changed?” said he, half
smiling.
“Oh, Thomas!”
“And if you’re not ashamed of
me—”
“Please don’t, Thomas!”
“My darling, pardon me,” mur¬
mured he. “You are prettier than
ever, and I am more in love with you
than I was before. Still, if you de¬
sire to be released from our engage¬
ment—”
“Oh, Thomas, no!”
“You are p>ale. Does this whirling
step make you giddy? Then we will
sit out a little while.”
When they returned from tho cool
shadows of Mrs. Staats-Burgoyne’s or¬
chid house, Lesbia took the Eastern
traveler straight to Mrs. Delacroix.
“Lesbia,” cried the old lady, “why
didn’t you tell mo?”
“Because,” whispered Lesbia, “I
didn’t know.”
Sophy and Grace exchanged mis¬
chievous glances.
“The other girl is first in the in¬
nings,” said they. /
But little Ernestine rejoiced in
spirit.
“I am to carry the basket of roses,”
said she, “and scatter flowers on the
bride’s pathway. Oh, what a beauti¬
ful thing a wedding is!”—Saturday
Night.
The Seal’s Strong Sense of Smell.
“Among the many singular traits of
character possessed by seals,” said Ol¬
iver L. Mason, a retired sea captain,
“none are more striking than the de¬
votion of the male to its offspring,
contrasted with the apathetic atten¬
tion paid by the mother. The latter
will at the least alarm bolt away into
the sea and leave her babies behind
her, but the bulls mount guard over
the swarming herds of young and
nothing can exceed their devotion and
courage when called upon as protect¬
ors. The sense of smell possessed by
the seals is very strong and will in¬
variably wake them out of a sound
sleep, even if you come upon them
ever so quietly to the windward, and
you will alarm them in this way much
more thoroughly, though you bo a
half mile distant, than if you came up
carelessly from the leeward and even
walked in among them, they seeming
to feel that you are not different from
one of their own species until they
smell you. The chief attraction in
these animals is their large, handsome
eyes, which indicate great intelli¬
gence. They are a deep bluish black,
with a soft glistening appearance, and
the pupil, like the cat’s, is capable of
great dilation and contraction.—St.
Louis Globe-Democrat.
A True Fishing Story.
Here is a snake story from a Bechu
analand paper which we do not re¬
member having seen before:
A Barberton man, who goes to
church regularly, was one day walking
along the banks of Concession Creek
eating a sandwich, and on account of
the usual disparity between meat and
bread he threw the redundant piece
into the water. Immediately a swarm
of yellcw fish bubbled aronud it,
fighting for the mouthful. The man
searched his pockets for fishing tackle,
but all in vain, and he was jnst be
ginning to die of despair when his eye
lighted on a blacksnake. At that mo
ment he remembered how his father
used lo tell him that blacksnakes were
yery e xoert in catching fi«l, He
therefore grabbed the reptile by the
tail, carried it to the river and held it
nvpr etmmiUnrr fid. tu__ anTin
°a = bo°rn
proye d itself angler
the course of an hour the man had
captured forty fine fish. A few days
latter a* he was walking in the same
place, he felt something rub against
his le ^ and looking down he saw his
ffrend, the blacksnake. eager for more
sport.—Rangoon ~ (Burmah) ; Times
With tlie Umbrella.
The foul air at the bottom of a well
can be lifted out in the following way :
Tie a string to the handle of a small
umbrella, open it and lower it into
the weli; draw it up, earrv it a few
yards away and turn it up; reoeat the
o]>eration Twenty or more clearlv'at limes, till a
lighted candle will burn the
bottom. The poisonous carbonic acid
gas, which is heavier than air, is lifted
out by the umbrella.—New York
Journal.
GOLD FOR EXTORT.
HOW THE YELLOW COIN PRE
pares for a.voyage.
The Ceremony Incident to Taking
It From the United -States Sub
Treasury—Its Steamer Derth
a Stout Wooden Keg.
w HEN wants to Europe,he a to New send York tries $1,000,000 banker first to
merchandise buy bills of exchange on
; but if he cannot get
these, or if the rate of exchange is too
high, then he must send the amount
in gold coin. The banker draws $1,
000,000 in greenbacks from the bank
where he keeps his account, and takes
these bills to the Sub-Treasury. They
must be gold certificates, Treasury
notes, or United States notes, as silver
certificates and National Bank notes
are not redeemable in gold. The
banker therefore usually appears at
the Sub-Treasury with a pile of green
backs about five iuches high, contain
ing a thousand $1000 notes. He goes
to the office of the Assistant United
States Treasurer and informs that
official that he desires to draw $1„
000,000 in gold. The latter answers
that he will have the coin ready, say,
in two hours. The banker then goes
to the receiving division and pays over
his pile of greenbacks to the receiving
clera, who gives him a receipt for “a
package of bills said to contain $1,
000,000, subject to count.”
Tjie receiving clerk counts the
greeubacks and finds them correct,
No shortage or excess has ever been
discovered in any of these gold fr¬ ans
actions with the banks. He then takes
the bills to the currency vault, where
they are again counted by the vault
keeper and placed in the vault after
the amount has been recorded and
charged to his account on the books in
the cashier’s office. The receiving
clerk gives notice to the coin division
that $1,000,000 in gold is to be with¬
drawn, and the paying teller of that
division then makes out a draft on the
gold vault for that amount.
There are four men who have charge
of the coin vaults, and each vault has
two locks. Two of these men have a
kfy to one lock, and the two others
have a key to the second lock, so that
there must always be two men at least
present in order to get into a vault.
gold is kept in the west vault, and
it is thither that the vault-keepers go
with their $1,000,000 draft to get the
coin for the banker. They are ac
c^mpanied by two laborers, who bring
%iong two low trucks, on which the
gold is to be piled.
In the vault the coin is stored away
ii* bags, each of which holds $5000.
Ttiese bags are piled in iron compart
n^ents that are just large enough to
accommodate one huudred bags. They
ale ticketed, showing what denomina¬
tion of coin they contain, and when
and by whom the contents were
last counted. The vault count is con
sidered correct, aud no further count
is made at the time of delivery, f The
bags are piled on the trucks and
checked off by the vault-keepers. Each
truck will comfortably carry one hun¬
dred bags, or $500,000. The entire
draft of $1,000,000 can thus be easily
Carried on the tw.o trucks. The gold
is wheeled into the coin division from
the vault and held there until called
lor by the banker, to whom it is de¬
livered upon presentation of the re¬
ceipt which he holds.
When the banker calls for his gold
fit the time appointed, the two small
truck that were loaded in the vault
are wheeled out into the lobby of the
coin division, wliero the bags are
transferred to a wagon that waits at
the Pine street entrance. For con
venience in loading five Treasury bags
are placed in a large canvas bag,
which is fitted with handles. The
gold is taken in the wagon to the
banker’s office, where it is weighed.
At the Sub-Treasury the coin was
counted, not weighed; but the Euro¬
pean bankers only accept our gold at
its weight, not at its face value. The
reason for this is that with gold in
circulation there is considerable nat¬
ural abrasion, but our laws make a
gold piece legal tender for the face
value, even if the abrasion amounts to
one-half of one per cent. Now $5000
in gold coin weighs 268.75 ounces
troy. Its medium weight to be legal
tender would be 267.41 ounces, which
is a discrepancy of 1.3 ounce. One
ounce of gold is worth $20.75 ; there¬
fore, if all the gold pieces in a $5000
Treasury bag were ahrased to the
minimum point allowed by law, the
coins would be legal tender in this
country for the full amount of their
face value, but would have an intrinsic
or European value of only $4973.78,
showing a loss of $26.22 on the $5000.
If in $1,000,000 all of the coins were
of medium weight the discrepancy
would .. S>o-4i,
amount to or to more
than the entire contents of one Treas
ury bag. As a matter o. fact, how
ever, our gold sees so little-use in cir
culation that the abrasion does not
amount to that much. The average
weight of a $5000 bag as shown by the
records is 268.40 ounces, troy, the full
weight being 268.75 ounces. Of
<*ourse even this slight difference in
weight cuts into the profits of the
banker, for he must make good the
deficiency in Europe.
After the bags have been weighed at
the banker’s office, and the record has
been made, a cooper is called in, and
he pagks the precious bags in stout
wooden kegs bound with iron hoops,
He puts twenty bags, or $100,000, in
each keg. For a shipment of 81,000,
000 he would consequently require
ten kegs. These are then sealed and
marked, and carted down to the wharf,
The load is a pretty heavy one, for as
each bag weighs eighteen pounds four
ounces, avoirdupois, the two hundred
bags in the ten kegs weigh 3680
pounds, or almost two tons. The
kegs are turned over to the care of
one of the officers of the ship, who
places them in a strong room in the
hold, the door of which is locked and
sealed until the vessel arrives on the
other side.
In snipping gold to Europe the
banker suffers other losses besides the
possible short weight from abrasion.
In addition to the expense of insur
ance and transportation, he loses the
interest on the gold while it is in
transit. The interest on. $1,000,000
for eight days, at the present rates,
would be about $500, The insurance
rates are ninetv cents per $1000, or
$900 on $1,000,000. The fre { ght
charges are one-eighth of one per
cent, for anvthing under 8500,000,
and seven-sixty-fourths of one per cent,
for anything over that. This would
make the charges $1075 for the ship¬
ment of $1,000,000. The cost of ship¬
ping that sum of money, therefore,
figures up about as follows:
Loss ot interest....... :cs .... $500 00
Insurance.............. 900 00
Freight charges....... .... 107500
Cooperage, cartage, etc 50 00
Total $2525 00
This total is slightly more than one
fourth of one per cant, of $1,000,099.
Of course the bauker cannot afford to
stand that loss. He must make it up
in some way. He does this by sell
ing exchange at a higher rate than
the nominal par. The nominal par
for exchange on London is $4.86* to
£1. Add one-fourth of one per cent,
to 4.86j and you get about $4.87 9-10,
which is the figure at which the
bauker must sell his exchange in
order to come out even on the trans
action. To make a profit he must put
the price up even higher. The rates
of exchange on the market for the past
few mouths have been $4.88l and
$4.88f for bills payable at sight if.
gold coin.
France Frequently bankers sending gold to
are able to avoid the loss ot
interest in transit. When the rate is
high this is an important item. When
the Bank of France is anxious for
gold it will accept asequalto a deposit
in Paris a cable message stating that
so many dollars in gold have been
placed aboard ship in New l r ork, con
signed to the bank. —Harper’s Weekly.
Ciirious Figures About Diet.
Reports recently received from sev¬
eral American Consuls give some in¬
teresting data in regard to the bread
consumers of the world, They show
that while a Portuguese ■worries
through a year with an average bread
supply of 176 pounds—about half a
pound a day—a Spaniard, just across
the border, requires 413 pounds per
annum, aud Spain cannot be regarded
as a wheat growing country, either.
In Hungary, where waving fields of
grain are common in the wheat grow¬
ing season, 361 pounds a year on an
average supplies a native, while an
Austrian, who also raises more or less
wheat, gets along with 187 pounds a
year.
Only 143 pounds of flour is required
by a German in a year, 165 pounds by
a Dane, while the Russians, tho great¬
est wheat growers in Europe, eat but
ninety-nine pounds per annum pei
capita. A native of Belgium consumes
378 pounds, and of America 351
pounds, while the Switzer eats 41S
pounds per annum, an Italian 310, a
Dutchman 283, an Englishman 352
pounds.
The greatost flour eater in the world
is the Frenchman. He consumes near¬
ly two pounds a day, or 705 pounds in
a year. This enormous quantity con
sumed by a Frenchman, when com
pared with tho fifty-six pounds per
annum which a Scandinavian requires,
revives tho old theory that climatic
influences have more to do with the
demands of nature than education.
In the extreme Northern climates,
where cold is severe, flour does uot
seem to be the favorite article of
food. There is not so much combus¬
tion in it as in oils and animal food.
The Laplander, who eats no flour at
all, is sometimes known to consume
seven pounds of whale or sea blubber
at one meal. A Russian, who eats
only ninety-nine pounds in a year of
the flour he raises, is popularly sup¬
posed to make up the deficiency by
swallowing tallow candles and any
kind of rich fatty substances that hap¬
pens to come to his hopper, no mnt
ter what the flavor.—Cincinnati Star.
The New London Bridge.
The new Tower Bridge in London,
England, connects the Tower Ham¬
lets, on the north side of the Thames,
with Bermondsey. The only previous
means of communication between
these districts were the Thames Rail¬
way Tunnel an l the disused Tower
Subway. The only approach for foot
passengers was the old London Bridge,
some distance up stream.
The design is of the bascule type.
The structure, properly speaking,is of
three parts—two side spans built on
the suspension principle and anchored
in two picturesque towers, and a cen
tral span. The latter contains the in¬
novation peculiar to this design.
Two draw bridges on bascules, each
fifty feet wide and 100 feet long, fall
from the lower part of the towers like
two great hinges, forming when
lowered an even, continuous aerial
roadway, thirty feet above the old
river at high water. They are moved
by hydraulic engines in two minutes.
The two suspension bridges or
either side are each 270 feet long, and
have a clear headway above the high
es t tide of between twenty and twen
ty-seven feet. They contain a sixty
f 00 t-wide roadway, with a very light
gradient. The *
approaches are so
geDt ly sloped that there is nowhere
in the structure a grade of more than
one in forty. The bridge is 2640 feet
long.—New York Mail and Express.
~
Tak:u .. ” a Tele _ , P , hone to Bed.
A doctor’s profession requires him,
if he seeks convenience aud comfort,
t° have two telephones—one in his
office and one in his bedroom. As any
one ha3 to pay tribute to the
telephone companies knows, theii
charges hardly represent the progress
that has been made in other lines in
the world in cheapening commodities,
Bui necessity is the mother of inveu
tion, and a doctor in the East End
found a way to have the convenience
°f telephones and yet only pay
f° r one - He has his telephone hung
upon hooxs in his office, the conuec
Hons being made by the telephone
coming in contact with an electric
board which he has had constructed,
He also has wires run to his bedroom,
where another electric board has been
placed. The doctor may be said to
take his telephone to bed with him
every hooks night. He takes it from the
in his office, carries it under
his arm up to his bedroom, and places
it upon the hooks there. Should any
calls come during the night, he can
answer them without leaving his room,
thereby getting the use of two .tele
phones for the price of one.—Pitts
burg Dispatch.
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
He Couldn’t Forget—Getting Experi¬
ence—Tlio Fitness of Things—
Not In It—A Surprise—
Ambiguous, Etc.
“Now tell me truly, dear,” she said,
“Will you forget mo when I'm dead
And leave naught to remind you
Of me?”
"Don't fear that I shall e’er forget—■
I've only need to pay, my pet,
The bills you leave behind you,”
Said he.
—New York Journal.
GETTING EXPERIENCE.
Visitor—“Where is your mamma?”
Little Girl—“She lias gone out for
five minutes two hours ago.”—The
Club.
AN INPIG NATION MEETING.
First Barber -“What do you think
of people who shave themselves?”
Second Barber — “They ought to be
compelled to cut their own hair.”—
Puck.
RETURNING FROM THE HONEYMOON.
He (angrily) — “Why do people stare
at us so?”
She —“Probably wondering, ns we
are, why we married each other.” —
Truth.
NOT IN IT.
The Gas—“You and I don’t stand
much of a show when there are a pair
of spoony lovers around, do we?”
The Lamp—“Nope; get turned
down every time.”—Buffalo Courier.
WHAT HE WAS.
Bobby—“Papa’s the captain of our
ship and mamma’s the pilot. ”
His Teacher—“And what are you?”
Bobby—“I’m the compass, I sup¬
pose—they’re Truth. always boxing me.
THE FITNESS OF THINGS.
“Mamma is thinking of buying a
dog.”
4 ‘Really I What kind ?”
“Oh, she’s iy>t particular as long Boston U£
it matches the carpet.” —
Budget.
A SURPRISE.
Cholly—“Do you aw—aw—know,
Miss Cuttah, that I—aw—havo thorn
times thought”—
nice! Miss And Cutter—“Really? how Why how
did it happen?”—
New York World.
from headquarters.
Featherstone—“I hear you are go¬
ing to move, Mr. Ringway?”
Ringway—“Move ! I should like to
know where you heard that. ”
Featherstone—“Your landlord told
me so.”—Puck.
AMBIGUOUS.
Clmmleigh—“Oh, Miss Vavasour,
you are the only girl I ever loved.”
Miss Vavasour—“How fortunate the
other girls with whom you are ac¬
quainted ought to consider them¬
selves.”—King’s Jester.
MORE ASTONISHING STILL.
Iiennard (on a first glimpse of the
sea) —“Astonishing! Who would have
thought there could be as much water
as that?”
Underhill—“True, and remember,
you only see what’s on top.”—Truth.
HIS OBJECTION.
Jilson—“What do you thing of the
proposition to put the United States
flag on postage stamps?”
Jenks—“Don’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“Old Glory has never been licked.”
—Washington Star.
TOO LIBERAL.
“Is Cliolly parsimonious at all?”
“Parsimonious? Why, he is liberal
to recklessness.”
“How did you discover that?”
“I heard him telling Chappie that
he was going to give him a piece of
his mind.”—New York Press.
NO DECEPTION.
Young Fastkind—“I thought you
told me this horse was without fault?”
Stableman—“So I did, sir.”
Young Fastkind—“Well, I notice
one of his eyes is blind.”
Stableman — “That’s not his fault,
sir; it’s his misfortune.’’—Harper’s
Bazar.
FAMINE MEASUF.ES.
“Ever wrecked on a desert island?”
“No.”
“I was once, for four weeks.”
“Didn’t you nearly starve?”
“No ; but I caught an awful cold, j
ran out of cigarettes on the fourth day
and had to cub up my gum shoes.”—
Indianapolis Journal.
AN INEVITABLE RESULT.
“Well, Ethel, congratulate me. I’ve
just sold my horse.”
“Good ; who bought him?”
“Your father.”
“Great Scott, George, do you realize
what you have done? Alas! in two
weeks father will be forbidding me to
see you. ”—Harper’s Bazar.
HE READS THE PAPERS.
Mother—“How comes it that your
shirt is on wrong side out and one
stocking missing? Have you been
swimming?”
Son — “Well, mother, if you’re go¬
ing to be an investigating committee,
I simply can’t remember anything
about it.”—Pittsburg Dispatch.
remarkable habits of flies.
Diner—“Waiter, there are lots of
flies in this sono *' ”
Walter— ... (lV les, sir; curious . thing
about flies, sir; they have the whole
restaurant to fly about in and yet they
are not content until they get into the
soup, where they are not onlv
drowned, but scalded into the bargain.
Y'es. sir; flies is curious things.”—
New York Press.
Gasweil .. —“How T . office „ ,
is your fiew
boy getting along?” j
Dukane—“I’ve been able to get a
little work out of him since I broke
him of the stamp-collecting habit, ot
smoking cigarettes and of whistling.
I am now trying to persuado him not
to go out to look at the score oftener
tbau once in two minutes. ”—Pittsburg
Chronicle-Telegraph.
A MATTKR OF FORM.
Mrs. Gray—"I don’t see how you.
have such good luck with Miss Snip.
Your dresses set beautifully, but she
never gives me a fit, though she is
fussy enough in her measuring, good¬
ness knows. Sometimes I think her
measuring is all folderol and is only
done for effect. It doesn't seem to do
any good in my case, at any rate.”
Mrs. White—“Perhaps it may bo,
as you say, a matter of form.”—Boston
Transcript.
NOT THE FAULT OT THE SYSTEM.
Banks strengthens his memory by
the use of a system of mnemonics, to
learn which he paid the inventor $25.
Rivers intrusted a package to Banks’s
caro the other evening and the latter
I apologized next morning for having
i failed to deliver it.
“The fact is, Rivers,” ho said, “I
forgot all about it.”
“But how about that $25 system of
mnemonics ?*’
“That system,” retorted Banks,
I hotly, “is all right. t forgot to ap
! ply it, that’s all.”—Chicago Tribune.
A QUESTION.
“I am very much puzzled about
Dickie Doddle*, ” said one young wo¬
man.
“I don’t find him so interesting as
all that,” replied another.
“It takes an emergency to develop
character. We went rowing together
the other evening—he employed a
man to handle the oars—and do you
know, he never attempted to rock the
boat. ”
“Is there anything puzzling about
that?”
“Certainly. I didn’t know whethei
to attribute it to intelligence or indo¬
lence. ”—Washington Star.
TRAPPED BY THE JUDGE.
Serving on a jury is a disagreoable
duty, from which tho ordinary man
always seeks to bo excused. Not long
ago, in an Omaha court, Mr. John Doe
was called, and, after giving his name,
asked to be excused.
“What excuse havo you?” asked the
judge, sternly.
“Hey?” asked Mr. Doe, “you’ll have
to speak louder, judge.”
The question was repeated, and Mr.
Doe replied: “Well, judge, I’m hard
of hearing, and I’m afraid it would ba
useless forme to try to serve.”
“Can you hear an ordinary conver¬
sational tone?” asked tho judge.
“Hev?” exclaimed Doe, placing his
hand behind his ear.
“I say, can you hear an ordinary
conversational tone?” sskedthe judge,
| pitching his voico a little higher.
“Well, it bothers me a great deal,”
replied Doe. in low
“Then,” said the judge, a
tone of voice, “wo’il have to excuse
! you if you can’t hear well.”
Low as the tone was, Mr. Doe heard
it, and he started away with a pleasant
smile on has face.
“Wait, Mr. Doe,” said the judge,
qivckly. “If you can hear that, you
can hoar well enough to serve as a
juror. We cannot excuse you.”
And John Doe collapsed and fell into
the nearest chair.—Golden Days.
Burnt Zulus Dreaded the Ice.
“The natives of tropical countries
are seldom so much astonished as
they are when first introduced to
snow and ice,” said E. A. Forster, of
Chicago. “ When the World’s Fair
« as in progress I saw a joke played
upon two members of a Zulu band
which was greatly enjoyed and appre¬
ciated by all present except the
| Zulus themselves. Tho manager of
tribe, whom I knew intimately, know¬
ing that none of the Zulus had ever
seen any ice,thought it would be great
fun to see how they would act when
brought in contact with it. Ho ac¬
cordingly told two of them that ho
wished them to go down town ivitli
him. He informed me what he was
going to do, and invite 1 me to accom¬
pany him, which I did. We stopped
at the office of one of the largo brew¬
eries, Rnd, after explaining our er¬
rand, were readily granted permission
to go through tho ice house.
“On arriving at the door of the ice
house we all entered, tho Zulus, w .o
were barefooted, following closely be¬
hind. All along the walls inside great
cakes of ice were piled. My friend, tho
manager, climbed up on top of tho
cakes and told the Zulus to follow
him. They obeyed. When the cold
chill of the ice first struck their baro
feet they didn’t know what to make of
it. They looked at one another for a
minute, and jabbered something in their
outlandish tongue. They stood for
about a minute, then, giving vent to a
yell, they sprang to the ground, and,
rushing to the door, they threw them¬
selves on the ground outside, where
they lay writhing about, nursing
their feet, and insisting that they had
been severely burned.”—St. Loui
Globe-Democrat.
Lions a Drug in the Market.
“I find there is a general impres¬
sion, said I red. F. Sampson, an
attache of the Cincinnati Zoological
Gardens, who was at tho Laclede
yesterday, “that lions are the most
costly wild animals sought after by
keepers of menageries and circuses.
This is quite wrong. Lions have for
some time been almost a drug on tho
market, and excepit when they are re
raarkably large they do not fetch a
large price. The crazo of late ye u a
has been after rare animals which arc
very difficult to capture.
I he white wildcat of Russia is
^1 dr!,i 9^ lte recently ™H ° F for the apparently ° Ue Wa8
ridiculous . .. sum of $12,000 *, Thpsa in e se
’ •
.
• onnc on mountains
t i
ue rfectlv whibwT,’ ^ H 18 difficult to 80
f™®!? distinguish them ^ WheQ the v are
p 18 re ^ 8on also « they
nrc temnerlfnr ye _ , captivity,
♦? f° m e< °« ^ thftQ ^ fift de a
grees killing them off - ^ *
It costs great (leal in a day or two.
a more to keer* nno
these animals supplied with half
frozen air tkau to feed it ” qt t ^ 9
Globe-Democrat. '